Lighting The Dark

an Advent calendar for tender times

✨ Welcome, especially to anyone who has recently joined this Advent journey. It’s been a joy to notice so many new sign-ups in the last few days. If this is your first email, you can read an introduction to the project here and there are links to catch up with the last few posts at the end of this email. We are in the first week of Advent when it is traditional to burn a candle for hope, so that’s the theme of all this week’s offerings. ✨

Today I am sharing a poem about building hope from the meagrest of materials by the Palestinian poet Mosab Abu Toha. Sharing poetry by either Palestinians or Israelis feels very sensitive at this time, and yet theirs are voices we need to hear if we don’t want our understanding of the current conflict to be shaped only by media messaging. 

Later in the calendar, I will be sharing some iridescent words by Jewish writers. But in today’s vortex of fear and hate, I want to remember that historically both Jews and Palestinians have experienced untold persecution, and be grateful that both cultures have produced writers with such exceptional gifts for finding hope in the dark.

Mosab Abu Toha’s poem comes from his 2022 anthology Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear: Poems from Gaza, a book which has helped me get beneath the headlines and try to understand a bit more about everyday life in Gaza before October 7th. In his piercing poems there are songs, sparrows and streets lined with shrapnel. There are books, birthday cakes and children who confuse clouds for bomb smoke. Daily life seems touchingly human and utterly inhumane. And as this poem so eloquently expresses, holding onto hope is an essential part of everyday survival.

WE LOVE WHAT WE HAVE

We love what we have, no matter how little,
because if we don't, everything will be gone. If we don't, 
we will no longer exist, since there will be nothing here for us. 
What's here is something that we are still
building. It's something we cannot yet see,
because we are part 
of it.
Someday soon, this building will stand on its own, while we, 
we will be the trees that protect it from the fierce 
wind, the trees that will give shade 
to children sleeping inside or playing on swings.

Mosab Abu Toha

I only discovered Mosab Abu Toha’s poetry a few weeks ago when his abduction by the Israeli Defence Forces attracted considerable attention. I have been following his postings from Gaza since then. Let me give you just a tiny glimpse of what I have been able to put together of his experiences in recent months.  

On June 10th, 2023, Abu Toha shared a photo on Facebook of evening light over a field writing: 

“Today, I enjoyed a beautiful sunset in Beit Lahia - north Gaza. I always find it refreshing to be close to the trees and plants around me. To be able to notice all this beauty in a city under siege is magic. Everything in Gaza loves life. Every living thing here wants to be noticed, wants to be touched, wants to feel that it’s loved.”

At some point in October, his family home in Beit Lahia was bombed. He and his family found shelter in the nearby Jabalia refugee camp and from there he began writing articles for the New Yorker describing the horrors of the limbo in which they were living. On November 6th, he wrote:

“I feel like I am in a cage. I’m being killed every day with my people. The only two things I can do are panic and breathe. There is no hope here.”

On November 18, while travelling to southern Gaza in an attempt to reach the border with Egypt, Abu Toya was abducted by the IDF. His capture attracted international criticism and after he was released a few days later, he wrote on Instagram:

“I’m safe but I still have severe pain in my nose and teeth after being beaten by the Israeli army last Sunday. I gave them all my family’s passports, including my American son’s passport but they didn’t return anything to me. Also my clothes and my children’s were taken and not returned to me. No wallet, no money, no credit cards. Everything was confiscated. I’m in pain.”

This Monday (4th December), Abu Toha posted that he had made it from Der-El-Bala refugee camp in central Gaza into Egypt with his wife and three children. Yesterday (5th December) he posted on Instagram:

“The Israeli tanks are now invading Der-El-Balah where I was staying with my wife Maram and kids until yesterday. Maram and I have left a few of her family members there, while the rest of our families are still stuck in north Gaza. Where should people go? Should they build a big ladder and go up? But heaven is blocked by the drones and F-16s and the smoke of death.”

Please follow Mosab Abu Toya’s writing on X or Instagram and show your support by buying his exquisitely brave and beautiful book. Writers must be free to speak the truth and resist oppression without fear.

Please no trolling after today’s post. I am on the side of peace but if you object to what I am sharing, you are free to unsubscribe. If you stay on this Advent journey, you will hear from many other luminous voices who have flown flags for hope, peace, joy and love across different cultures and faiths.

And I have something very special for you tomorrow,

Sophie ✨

If you’ve appreciated today’s words, please do invite family and friends to join you in receiving this daily Advent offering. The sign-up link is here. Click on the links to catch up with the posts from December 1 , December 2, December 3 and December 4.